Safe Haven

by Anna Schmidt

  “He did us all a great service,” the director replied.

  “Will we—my daughter and I—need to move to the women’s barracks?” Ilse asked. She had always been one to address practical matters as soon as possible.

  “No, of course not. You and Liesl are still a family, Ilse.”

  “Thank you.”

  Director Smart stepped back to allow others to offer their condolences.

  Ilse stood with Ellie and Paul and Theo as those attending the service stopped to speak with them. Because they were the only Quakers in the shelter and there was no gathering of the Religious Society of Friends in the Oswego area, most of those people who grasped her hands and murmured words of comfort were Jewish. It struck Ilse that in life’s passages—moments of celebration and sorrow—barriers of religion and politics disappeared. Everyone was on common ground, and that more than anything consoled her, for she knew that Franz would be touched by this outpouring of respect and even affection for him.

  When the last person had left the recreation hall, heading for the cemetery in town where Franz would be buried, Ilse realized that it had been some time since she had seen Liesl. Her heart flared with familiar anxiety as she realized that with Franz gone, she and she alone was responsible for raising their child and keeping her safe.

  “Coming, Ilse?” Ellie asked. “Paul is getting the car.”

  “I just have to find Liesl. You go ahead.”

  Alone in the hall, Ilse turned in a circle, not knowing where to begin to search for her daughter. Then she heard a single note struck on the old upright piano that had been pushed into a corner to make room for the circles of chairs. She followed the sound and saw Liesl sitting on the bench, staring at the keys.

  “Papa wanted me to learn to play the piano,” Liesl said, her voice little more than a whisper. “I told him there was plenty of time for me to do that later.” Ilse realized that for all her taking on of American ways, Liesl had never called Franz “Dad”—he had always been her papa. Liesl started to cry and splayed her hands on the keys, striking a jarring chord that filled the empty hall.

  Ilse slid onto the bench next to her and wrapped her arms around her. “You can learn now. You can do it in memory of Papa. Think how pleased he would be.”

  “I’ll practice every single day,” Liesl promised. “Do you think Papa will know?”

  Ilse hesitated. Some in their faith believed in an afterlife, and others did not. Ilse was unsure of her position on the matter, but she understood that the idea that Franz was somewhere watching Liesl play the piano gave the child comfort. “Yes,” she said, hugging her daughter to her. “Papa will know.”

  As he drove to the cemetery, Theo kept reliving the service that had just ended. After explaining the tradition of the Quaker faith to the mostly non-Quaker gathering, he had thought of sharing his memories of Franz but decided against it. He had barely known his uncle. His sister, Beth, should be the one here speaking of the man she had lived with for eight years in Munich. But Beth was still in England awaiting permission to leave with her German husband and their daughter. Besides, Beth was expecting a second child anytime now.

  His mind had wandered as first one and then another person rose to speak. Finally his eyes had settled on Suzanne sitting with Gisele across from the family. Theo was reminded of the conversation they had once had about faith. He’d been surprised to learn that she had been raised as a Quaker and even more surprised to learn that she no longer practiced that or any faith.

  “How can you believe in a god who would allow a monster like Hitler?” she had challenged.

  “I believe that every person is born with the spirit of God already inside and that it is our choice whether or not we bring that spirit into our daily lives.” He knew that she had believed the same thing but something had changed that, and for reasons he could not fully grasp, he thought it had to do with something far more personal than Hitler’s regime.

  All during the funeral, he glanced up at Suzanne from time to time, trying to decide if perhaps she might once again feel the power of that inner Light. But she sat stone still with her hands folded in her lap and stared out the window behind him. It occurred to him that she had spent a good part of her adult life in Washington, and he wondered if the political world might not be partially to blame for her jaded attitude. Then he wondered if he won election to Congress and moved to Washington, would he suffer a similar loss?

  After spending the night in the frigid apartment with Liesl and witnessing Ilse’s grief at the loss of her beloved husband, Suzanne had come to a decision. She was going to stay in Oswego and see this thing through to the end. If that meant she had no job—or income—so be it. She still had some savings, and perhaps Joseph Smart or the local newspaper would give her some part-time work.

  Obviously the funeral was not the place to broach the subject with the camp’s director, but she could at least ask if she could meet with him. So when she found herself standing next to him in line at the meal Gisele and several other women had set up for the mourners when they returned from the cemetery, she asked if it would be convenient for her to stop by his office the following day.

  “Another interview, Miss Randolph?” Smart smiled.

  “Of sorts,” she replied. They agreed to meet at two the following day.

  She would have to call Edwin and let him know of her decision, and she dreaded making that call at the boardinghouse where Hilda would no doubt be listening from the upstairs hallway. Perhaps if she made the call while everyone was at breakfast, the table conversation would make it impossible for Hilda to eavesdrop.

  She was so engrossed with the details of carrying out her plans that at first she did not notice the man standing alone near the exit. There were dozens of guests all crowding around the buffet to fill their plates and share memories of Franz, but this man drew her attention by the way he stood half in and half out of the room as if he could not make up his mind.

  He wore an overcoat that was too small for him, and he carried a fedora. He fixed his attention on Ilse, and Suzanne saw that he watched her with concern. There was something familiar about him, but she could not place him. She had interviewed at least a couple hundred of the residents of the shelter, but this man was not one of them. Still there was something.

  She started across the room, weaving her way through the throng to reach the doorway. She wanted to get a closer look, and she had almost reached the exit when the way cleared and she saw that he was gone. She turned to scan the room and almost tilted her plate filled with food onto Theo’s shirt.

  “No thanks,” he said, grinning as he helped right her plate while balancing his plate in one hand. “I have food of my own here.”

  “That could have been a disaster,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

  “No harm done. How about we find a table?” He glanced around the crowded room where dozens of people were eating and talking. “Franz would have really enjoyed this,” he said. “He was always so concerned about the divisions among the refugees—most of them national and making for strained relations on more than one occasion.”

  Suzanne saw the gathering now through his eyes. In one area was a table occupied by several people, and she realized that they were all from different countries. They were all Jewish, but she recalled how in the first weeks of the camp when a part of the fort’s chapel had been converted to a synagogue there had been friction among the two groups. The disagreement had been about how to conduct services, and Joseph Smart had had to intervene and make peace with both groups after he had appeared to take sides with the Slavs when they walked out of a service. Smart had mistakenly thought the service had ended when in fact the Slavs had walked out in protest. It occurred to Suzanne that out of such misunderstandings wars could be made.

  She followed Theo as he threaded his way to a small round table in the back of the room, glancing around to see if perhaps the stranger at the door had finally decided to come into the hall. Th
eo set down his food and procured two empty chairs from the crowded tables around them. Then he waited for her to be seated before taking the other chair and spreading a napkin across one knee.

  “How is your mother doing?” Suzanne asked, having dismissed her curiosity about the stranger in favor of focusing on Theo and his parents. “There’s been so much attention on Ilse and Liesl, but her loss is great, as well.”

  “I think she did a lot of her initial grieving on the drive out. She told stories about growing up back in Germany and how Franz had been the perfect older brother—even though they are only a little more than a year apart in age.” He glanced over to where his mother was handing a plate filled with food to Ilse. “I think today she is finding comfort in keeping her focus on Ilse and Liesl.”

  “What do you think Ilse will do now?”

  “What can she do? She’s here until the end of the war. My dad had a talk with Mr. Smart about maybe under the circumstances she and Liesl could be allowed to come home with us, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “This entire situation is ridiculous,” Suzanne fumed. “The people here are supposedly ‘guests,’ but they sure aren’t being treated like that.” She attacked her food as if it were the enemy.

  “Okay, changing the subject,” Theo said mildly. “Did I tell you I might run for Congress?”

  If he had announced that he was thinking of making a solo flight around the world in spite of the fact that he had no knowledge of flying an airplane, Suzanne could not have been more stunned. “Congress?”

  “Yeah. You know the Senate and House of Representatives that makes laws for the nation?”

  “Where did this come from?”

  His grin wavered, and he turned his attention to his food. “It’s a long shot, I know, but …”

  She covered his hand with hers. “I’m not doubting you, Theo. The truth is I think you would make an incredible congressman. If there were more people like you making laws, maybe things would be better for everyone.”

  “Thanks.” He told her about attending the political meeting and then being asked to consider running. “The other party has a strong candidate—a war hero. So even if I do run, the chances are not good.”

  “What made you want to do this?”

  He looked over to the table where Liesl sat with her friends. “I realized that what I really wanted was to make a difference for those kids. They’re the ones who will be growing up in this world that we make for them in the years after the war ends. I want it to be a better place for them—for Liesl, for my brother’s kids, and for mine if I’m lucky enough to have children of my own.”

  His passion blazed from his eyes.

  “Wow,” she said. “And here I thought I was the one with big news.”

  “Like what? You got a byline?” He was one of the few people she had told of her dream to one day rise above the scandal of her past reporting days and earn the right to have her name on a major story, and she could see how excited he was for her.

  “Not yet,” she admitted. “That’s now a long shot. I guess we have that in common.”

  “A long shot because?”

  She sucked in a deep breath as if she were about to take a plunge into deep water.

  “I’m going to quit my job at the paper and stay here. I want to see this story through to the end. I want to know what happens to everyone here.” She nodded toward the others in the room. “Every single person in the fort.” Suddenly nervous, afraid that he would tell her she was out of her mind, she added, “I was thinking that I could write a book.” Might as well go all the way to the deepest end, she thought.

  “That’s a terrific idea,” Theo said, and when she dared to look up at him she saw that he meant it. “The book idea. I mean, everybody should know the story of these incredible individuals who by circumstances beyond their control have been reduced to a common label—refugees. You can tell the world who they were before, what they had to sacrifice, how they came here, and where they go from here. Ambitious yes, but you can let people see them as the unique individuals that they are. It’s a wonderful idea, Suzanne.”

  She wished then that she had shown more enthusiasm and less skepticism about his plan to run for Congress. “Looks like we’re both setting off on new paths,” she said. “I’m going to speak with Mr. Smart tomorrow about maybe doing some part-time work here in the fort. If I can be here on a regular basis, it will give me a chance to get to know everyone—well, maybe not everyone, but certainly a lot more of them than I know now.”

  “You’ll have your work cut out for you,” Theo warned her. “There are so many stories that deserve telling—so much to learn from these folks.” He looked over the gathering and seemed lost in his reflections.

  Suzanne took a couple of bites of her meal, waiting for him to come back from wherever his musings had taken him. “Hey,” she said in a tone she might have used if waking someone from a dream. “Penny for those thoughts.”

  He smiled and picked up his fork, but he did not eat. “I was just thinking. I mean if I’m going to run for Congress, there’s a lot I need to learn about how things work with the government. It goes way beyond Congress and the president. This whole business here in the fort, for example. The State Department has a hand in this, and Ruth Gruber works for the Department of the Interior, and then there are all the subagencies—the War Relocation Agency for one.”

  “Okay, I can practically hear the wheels turning in that brain of yours,” Suzanne teased. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking maybe I’ll stay as well. I can be here as a support for Ilse and Liesl until this thing is over. And in the meantime I can observe our government in action.”

  “Or inaction as is more likely,” Suzanne replied, unable to temper her cynicism.

  “Ah, Suzanne. If I stay here, we are going to have to work on getting you to see that glass half-full,” he teased, and it occurred to her that just maybe her change of direction for her life might just work out.

  CHAPTER 11

  Have you completely lost your mind?” Edwin said when Suzanne called him the following morning. “Not only do you not have the credentials necessary to find a publisher for a book, you seem to be forgetting that you have a reputation in this business that is a long way from being repaired.”

  She had not really thought about it in those terms. “I could use a pseudonym,” she blustered.

  Edwin sighed. “Suzie. Suzie. Suzie. Where’s your brain? For that matter, where’s your loyalty?”

  So they had come to the crux of things. When she had returned to Washington and the newsroom in late November, he had assigned her to the local news desk telling her that she needed to work her way up and that it would take time. That same day she learned that the usual local reporter had quit to take a job in Chicago. Edwin had needed her to fill that reporter’s place, and once she was there he’d seen no reason to advertise the position.

  “My loyalty?”

  “Yes. Who gave you a chance when you were basically dead in the news business—at least in this town?”

  “You did, and I appreciate that, but—”

  “And who let you go back up there to that place to get the suicide story?”

  Let me? Edwin had not paid her way, and it had been the weekend when she was free to do whatever she wanted. True, he had given her trip his token blessing by reminding her of the night train.

  Edwin kept talking, not waiting for her to answer his question. Apparently it was rhetorical—as was this entire conversation as far as he was concerned.

  She decided to take a different path. “Edwin, I’m calling from a shared phone, and I can’t really tie up the line. Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me. I know you think I’m making an enormous mistake, but I just really feel this is something I need to see through to the end.”

  “I can’t hold a job for you, Suzie.”

  “I understand. Just have Linda pack up my personal stuff and hold it for me. N
ext time I’m back that way I’ll stop by and pick it up,” she promised.

  “You’re doing this in spite of everything …”

  “Edwin, you know that plaque you hung on the wall in the newsroom? The one that says ‘Sometimes to discover new oceans, we have to leave sight of the shore’?”

  “You’re telling me that you are off to discover new oceans?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, take care, Suzie, because you are setting off in a leaky boat.”

  She laughed. “Bye, Edwin.”

  “Bon voyage,” he muttered, and even as they hung up, she knew that he really did wish her well.

  Later after Theo’s parents had packed up and started on the long drive back to Wisconsin, she was sitting in the communal living room writing a letter to her mother when Theo came in.

  “Am I disturbing you?”

  “Not at all.” She set her pen and paper aside and curled her legs under her in the large overstuffed chair. “Did your parents get off all right?”

  He smiled. “Finally. Mom has this way of taking her time to say good-bye. Dad and I thought she was never going to leave Ilse and Liesl.” His smile faded. “She’s pretty worried about them. I mean, Ilse seems to have gotten over the way she used to be. …”

  “Used to be?”

  “She had a lot of problems starting just after Liesl was born. That’s why my sister, Beth, went to Munich in the first place. From what I know, there were whole days when Ilse stayed in her bedroom, refusing to come out even for meals.”

  “But now …”

  “That’s just it. She’s like a different woman—strong and determined. But with Franz gone …”